Brother
by Bookworm290
Summary: Katniss was an oddity. She loved her younger sister so much that she metaphorically sacrificed her life for her. But what if there was another oddity that didn't have the chance that Katniss had? What if there wasn't a sister to save, but a brother?REVAMP


Brother

SHE COULDN'T HANDLE it. All the nerves, she knew they would do her in, eventually.

Lucinde took a deep breath in as she walked to the 16-year old section. This was the first year her brother, Lorenzo, would have his name in the huge glass reaping balls. She hadn't let him take any tesserae, splitting the amount of six between her brother Aiden and herself. She wanted to protect Lorenzo and Benji as much as possible.

Sucking another huge breath, Lucinde tried to calm her nerves, when all of a sudden, she felt a hand on her arm.

"Hey, how are you?" Her best friend, Marilee, was there. She tried to give a weak smile, but it didn't work out so well. She knew Marilee tried to understand her worry for her little brothers, but she was the youngest of four, rather that the oldest. Lucinde wasn't sure how much Marilee really got her, although she knew that she really cared.

"As well as can be expected."

"Don't worry. You've done all you can. His name's only in there once. Lorenzo will be fine."

"I know. I just can't stop worrying."

She looked to her right, where the 15-year old boys were. She caught Aiden's eye, and again tried to smile; again, it didn't really work. He gave a sort of tight nod and looked towards the stage. He was scared, nervous. But Lucinde wasn't as worried about him as much. She knew he could handle himself. But there was another reason. He always pushed her away when she tried to get close to him.

She was never sure why, but she couldn't worry any more than she was right now. A girl came up behind Marilee. Leigh, Lucinde's other best friend. Sometimes, Lucinde wasn't sure what she would do without them. But, like Marilee, Leigh didn't understand the three younger brothers thing. She did have one younger brother, Trent, but they weren't the closest of siblings.

"Hey guys. Trent couldn't find his shoes, so we're a little late. Good thing it hasn't started yet." Another difference – Trent was only eleven. Maybe Leigh would understand more in a year.

The murmuring and bet placing quieted down as Mayor Jabilo stood up and walked to the pulpit. She proceeded to tell the story of the North America, and how Panem came to be. Her voice tightened slightly as she read about the rebellion, and the birth of the Hunger Games. Judging by Lucinde's estimate, she looked to be in her 40's, which meant she probably remembered the rebellion, fought in it herself.

Mayor Jabilo stepped down, sitting next to the one and only victor of their district. Kleming Flavo, their Capitol representative, stepped up to the stage, standing in front of the giant clear cases holding all of the names.

_33 are mine, 22 Aiden's, one Lorenzo's. We'll be fine. We'll be fine. _Lucinde tried to reassure herself, but, like everything else, it didn't work.

"I'm so excited to be here for the 22nd Hunger Games! Girls first, shall we?"

The blood-red haired man walked over to the giant container, sifting through it a bit before pulling out a slip.

"Jemma Hilgo! Come on up!" Kleming called cheerfully. A short girl from the seventeen-year olds climbed the stage, a dull, shocked look in her eyes. _I wonder what made her like that. Being chosen, or something else entirely... _

"Any volunteers? No? And now for the boys!" Going through the ball, his hand making scraping sounds against the papers. Lucinde squeezed her friends, one on either side of her. "Lorenzo Bourne!" She immediately stopped gripping Marilee's and Leigh's hands. She stopped taking in huge breaths. Her heart stopped thumping out of rhythm.

She watched detachedly as her little blonde brother went up the steps to stand next to the girl, Jemma. Jemma was short, but Loken was shorter. He was only twelve. _He was only twelve. _

"Any volunteers?" Lucinde looked to her right, trying to get Aiden's attention. _Please Aiden. You'd have a chance. He's only twelve. Please. _Aiden refused to look anywhere except for the stage floor, which was at his eye level. "No? All right. Then here are your tributes – Jemma Hilgo and Lorenzo Bourne!"

They shook hands and walked into the Justice Building. She automatically turned and fled, rushing to find her parents and Benji, not waiting to say goodbye to her friends, or to get Aiden. Definitely not to wait for Aiden.

She found them eventually, and her mom went up and hugged her. "It's okay, honey, don't cry. Don't cry." Lucinde numbly felt her cheeks, remotely shocked to find them wet. Her family found Aiden, who had stayed put in his reaping area, knowing they would come to find him.

"All right, now that we're all together, let's go." Lucinde's stomach clenched as her father said it, at the thought of them 'together'. They weren't together, not without Lorenzo.

They were directed into a room, Lucinde the last one in. Just as she was going to shut the door, she saw an old man with the same height as Jemma. He shuffled down the hallway slowly, hair grey and eyes as empty as Jemma's had been.

Lucinde could only wonder what had happened.

Entering the room, she saw that her mother and Benji were crying. Her father looked like he was getting close to crying, and Aiden looked like he would rather hurt himself than cry. And then there was Lorenzo. Lucinde's throat tightened at the sight of him. He looked scared to death. Before she knew it, she was crying again. Tears pouring down her cheeks as she distantly heard her family whisper to him.

"Good luck." Her father.

Then, her mother. "We'll miss you."

Benji and Aiden muttered their farewell's to Lorenzo, so quietly that Lucinde couldn't hear. But as Lorenzo's eyes filled with tears, Lucinde knew. She knew they were all saying the wrong things.

Lucinde walked up to him, sitting there, looking pathetically small on his chair. She knew that he didn't have a chance. That he wouldn't last a day. This would be the last time she got to see him, not counting on TV. She wouldn't tell him that, or fill him with the false hope of coming home.

Lucinde walked straight up to him, knelt down and hugged him tightly; she whispered one thing in his ear, something only for his ears.

"I love you. Never forget that. I love you _so_ much." She stood back up, but kept a hold on her little brother's hand. They were soon asked to leave by the Peacekeepers. Lucinde walked home with her family, crawled up on her bed, and cried herself to sleep.

SHE WOKE UP the next morning, slightly dazed and wondering. She quickly remembered what happened, and her eyes filled with tears. She forced herself not to let them fall down her cheeks. She rolled over in bed, preparing for sleep once again. Lucinde wasn't going to bother to get up when she didn't have any commitments. No friends to meet, work to do, or school to attend. It was that time of the year. Hunger Games.

Lucinde opened her eyes slowly, gummy from the almost 24 hours she was asleep. She slowly realized she was being shaken.

"Lucinde, honey. Why don't you come have some lunch?" Her mother was there, standing over her with a concerned look on her face.

The next few days past in a kind of haze for her. She slept as much as she could, waking only to eat, and then only when she was forced. She remembered watching the interviews, no one standing out for her but Lorenzo – not that she remember anything he said. Lucinde dimly remembered all of this, but the first day of 22nd Hunger Games stood out for her. That day would always be imprinted into her, her mind able to pull up every horrible image.

The first day of those Games, 14 of the tributes died. It was a Games record, not that anyone but the Capitol people cared. Both Jemma and Lorenzo were killed. Both by a ruthless killing machine from District Four. Lucinde hated him. It was the most powerful feeling she'd ever had. She had nightmares that first night. And for a month after that, up until the Games finished. The last two people had a horrible fight, with only a couple of knives each, a Gamemaker's earthquake having taken all their other supplies. _He _was one of them. And he lost.

She was happy. In a sick, horrible way, she was glad for another human's death. She didn't have nightmares that caused her to wake up screaming, with _him_ coming after her and her family. Instead, she had nightmares that made her wake up with tears and no breath. Nightmares where he was killed, instead of the one killing.

Lucinde was lost. Hate was a new emotion for her. She'd never really felt it before this year. And now she was full to the brim with it. For _him,_ and for Aiden. She tried to squash it down, but it wouldn't leave. Lucinde could only hide it. She could never let anyone suspect what a monster she'd become, hating her own brother for not saving her dead one.

* * *

THREE YEARS LATER, Lucinde walks through the crowd with her parents; Benji and Aiden stayingat home, not eligible to elect tributes as they are options for the election. Lucinde feels sick to her stomach, unable to grasp the concept of this 'Quarter Quell'. They have to _choose_ who to send this year. Lucinde can't believe it; the Capitol really hates them.

The whole ordeal is very organized. Peacekeepers direct Lucinde to a cramped booth, separating her from her parents. She doesn't worry too much, she knows they'll meet at the edge of the market afterwards. She looks down at the booth. There is a pile of papers for writing the chosen tribute's name, and a book full of all the youth in their district. She flips through it absently for a minute, not really seeing anything.

Lucinde feels horrible, but she already knows what she'll write. She picks up the pen, takes in a shaky breath, and writes the name.

The next week, the tributes names are given. Kaelie Griffith. And Aiden Bourne. Lucinde automatically gagged when she heard the name, unable to grasp that two of her brothers are going to have been sent into this horrible ordeal. She pukes, not capable of holding the 'cheerful' breakfast her father had cooked that morning.

Aiden goes up the stage, trying to look as confident as possible. Lucinde notes that both of the tributes are 18, if that means anything. In her mind, it doesn't.

She can't believe what she's done.


End file.
